


I Can't Help Running From the Light

by kadimi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 06:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21222401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadimi/pseuds/kadimi





	I Can't Help Running From the Light

Dean slouched in his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face for what seemed like the hundredth time today, trying only half-heartedly to keep them open. He didn't sleep much last night, and hadn't for a while, really, but there were other things keeping him occupied. Class was boring, as usual. Maybe if Dean put some half-ass effort into his work, he would do better, but it honestly didn't matter. What mattered was working, keeping himself and Sammy out of trouble, and dealing with John.

At the moment, Dean's class was learning about how to properly write an essay. The material really wasn't so bad, Dean had never hated reading, just the teacher droned on and on as if knowing how to annotate a book and write a thesis would one day come in handy ringing up people's groceries or fixing a car at the shop. Dean didn't mind working with cars, really. Sometimes he even enjoyed it. It was a good distraction from his thoughts.

"Are you still with us, Winchester?"

Dean jerked his head up, heart pounding, only just then realizing he had drifted off. A quick glance around the room showed him everyone in the class was staring at him, which could only lead him to assume the teacher had called his name several times before he had heard her. Heat rushed up Dean's neck, but before he was saved by the jarring bell signaling the end of class. Dean and the rest of the students jumped up with their bags and books and crowded towards the door, chattering noisily. Once out of the stifling classroom, Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and headed to his next class.

* * *

He was in a hallway. Dark, but familiar in the strange way things are sometimes. Lined with doors. But Dean knew they wouldn't open somehow, so he kept walking. Then turned around, as one should never do, as it makes you paranoid when a person is walking alone. There was nothing behind him, but he still felt he was being watched or followed. The air became thicker and his pulse began racing and the hallway became dimmer and Dean went to move, but he couldn't. He tried to run, but it was as if everything was in slow motion and he was falling. Weightless, and he tried to take a breath, but his lungs felt collapsed. He finally hit something, water, an ocean maybe. But he was bleeding, he must have been because the clear water surrounding him is stained red, and then as far as he could see, the water is red, darker now, strong smelling and he fought the urge to gag. He tried to breathe, but inhaled a mouthful of blood and was coughing, choking on the blood, and he couldn't say afloat and he was drowning, drowning-

Dean woke with a jolt. Wide awake, he sat up, his ears straining, but it was hard to hear anything over his pounding heartbeat. He tried to forget the dream, forget that it was the most disturbing dream he’d had in a while, but the taste of blood lingered, even though it was only in his memory. It was just Dean and Sam in the house that night. John was gone, on a trip for business. Not that Dean minded much. He could take care of himself and Sam was fourteen, old enough to understand, but not old enough to get involved with any of their family shit. Not that Dean would let that happen anyways.

Sam was smart, real smart, so Dean had decided that Sam would focus on school only, and get himself a scholarship to some fancy-ass college where he could get himself the hell out of their town. Dean would work. He had never been the smart one, but he could fix up cars. He worked at the Singer’s Garage, where John worked as well, and he had a part time job at the local grocery store, which paid alright.

Dean walked over to his shabby desk underneath the open window and opened the drawer to pull out a lighter and a pack of cheap cigarettes. John drank, and Dean didn’t want to go down that path, even though smoking was not any better. He lit one up and took a long drag, making sure to exhale out the window. Sam always hated it when Dean smoked, and Dean didn't want to worry Sam. Dean wasn't addicted, at least not yet, but a cigarette or two really helped to calm his nerves and to take the edge off. He paced while he smoked, stopping every so often to flick ash out the window while he thought. When he was done, he put the stub out, sat down at his desk, and pulled out his sketchbook. Dean liked to draw, and he wasn't half bad at it either. Drawing had always been a place to turn, somewhere safe. John obviously never would have approved, if he had known. Sam didn't know either, but some things, Dean just liked to keep to himself.

He liked to draw people. Capture their expressions, their whole life story written in their lives. A way to capture a moment, or a feeling, all with just a pencil and a pad of paper. Dean would also draw or design cars and architecture, and anything that captured his eye. Right now he was working on a drawing of the view outside his window. He put off sleep, dreading a nightmare, and ended up drawing for hours, until the sun appeared on the horizon and Dean went to shower and wake Sam.

* * *

Second period was history, a rather uneventful class. Dean had never much liked school. Nothing learned there really applied to the real world, or at least the world Dean lived in. He showed up as the bell rang and took his usual seat towards the back next to his friend Benny and prepared himself to do absolutely nothing for the next hour. Few people talked to Dean, which suited him just fine. He preferred spending time alone, or with people he actually liked anyways.

Dean was rummaging for his sketchbook in his backpack when the class quieted down and people began to whisper to each other. Dean's history teacher, Mr Wilson, cleared his throat.

"Everyone, please welcome our new student, Castiel Novak."

Dean looked up to see Wilson standing at the front of the room next to a boy, the new kid. He was tall, probably around Dean's height, and had dark hair that could definitely use a cut. but the way the girls were whispering, they liked it just fine.

Wilson sent the new kid to the only empty seat left, which was up a row and a few seats over from Dean. Cas-whatever-his-name-was looked tired. Dean could see him better as he walked closer, his eyes blue-lidded, with dark circles underneath them. He was pale, too, but the girls were right, he was definitely not unattractive.

Cas, that had a nice ring to it. Dean was sort of staring at Cas as he walked closer, who must have felt his gaze, looked up, straight at Dean. Dean looked away pretending to suddenly need something of great importance from his bag. What he hadn't noticed before were Cas's eyes. They were blue, bright blue. They seemed almost unsuitable on his face. Dean felt certain his face was turning red, and he was just about to look up again, when Cas sat down. Dean frowned at the back of his head, as if he could see straight through his skull and into his thoughts. He took out a notebook and sketched the three-quarter view of Cas from where he sat. Drawing new people was always entertaining.

* * *

Lunch wasn't so bad this year, Dean thought. John had trouble finding a job in the last town the Winchesters had lived in, due to his bad temper and lack of a college degree. When he got a call from Bobby, an old family friend, offering a job working at his garage, John accepted, desperate for work. This was Sam and Dean’s first year at their new school, and it was looking like they would stay until Sam finished high school. It was Dean's last year, but he was not planning on going to college.

A new school in a new city meant meeting new people, again. Sam had never had a particularly hard time making new friends. He was tall, and still growing, an inch taller than Dean now (not that Dean would ever admit it), outgoing and smart and funny and always smiling. Dean, on the other hand, had a very difficult time making friends, and was hot-headed, sarcastic, cynical, and typically, rather blunt when he talked, which was not very often unless he was talking to people he knew.

Sam and Dean had switched schools several times now and they were all starting to look the same. The same types of people, the same subjects, the same cliques, and the same cafeteria food. Here, Dean had made a few friends, surprisingly. Benny, a cap wearing, accented, smartass. He and Dean were fast friends, and hit it off right off the bat. Charlie was a tiny, rather disagreeable redhead. Dean and her got along right away as well. Charlie dressed in flannels and graphic, colorful t-shirts, and was a computer nerd with a shitty home life.

Dean used to make excuses up for John in his head. Mary, Dean's mom and John's wife, died when Dean was five and Sammy was still a baby. It was an accident, maybe the stove or a candle, but John never forgave himself, or Dean either. Everything Dean knew about that night was from vague memory. John never was much of a talker.

"Howdy, brother", Benny drawled in whatever the hell that accent was, shaking Dean out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Benny and Charlie sitting down with him at a lunch table in the cafeteria.

"Dean! I have big news! Seriously, listen, it's super important I swear." Charlie's face seemed as if it was about to split in two from her massive grin and she was practically vibrating with her excitement.

Benny rolled his eyes. "She's been going on and on about this. All morning. She just wouldn't shut up about it." Dean snorted.

But even Benny couldn't break Charlie's good mood today. Charlie ignored him and turned to Dean. "I finally told Dorothy I liked her, and she said she liked me too, and we made out in the girls' locker room! Can you freaking believe it?"

Dean laughed. "Damn, congratulations. I thought the time would never come. You've been pining after her for years."

Charlie squealed and jumped on Dean to give him something vaguely resembling a hug. "I know! She asked me out after the locker room thing and we're going to see a movie Friday!"

Dean smiled. Charlie always said he frowned too much, but she did know how to make him laugh when he was feeling bad. God, John was an asshole. Dean must've done something to piss him off, because he was mad last night, even though Dean can't recall anything.

"Are you alright? Is everything okay?" she asked, in that way people do when they think something's wrong with you.

Dean forced a smile back on to his face, belatedly realizing he had let it slip. "I'm good. Everything's fine."


End file.
